Please
by hannah415
Summary: They'd had the talk hundreds of times, most of which occurred even before they developed feelings for each other, when they were working together for the Order. Back then, Hermione had always felt a need to fix him, to remedy whatever was broken inside his soul, and perhaps part of her still did. Dramione. One-shot.


She was shaking. It was a sign of how angry she was, he had learned, when she shook; it showed that she could hardly contain her anger, that it was bubbling so terribly close to the surface, and, had he been thinking, he probably would have left it. He would have softened and stopped talking and wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders.

He was not thinking, however.

"Don't you _dare_, Draco!"

"Oh, _what_, Granger?" he snapped, throwing his hands in the air. "Is it so _wrong_ of me to say no?"

"Of bloody course not, but this is ridiculous!" she screamed. There was fire in her tone and in her cheeks, and he had always thought that she looked beautiful angry – her eyes always lit up and her face would flush and her owls nest of hair would bounce around her face. "You can't… you can't honestly _think_…"

"Think _what_?"

She seemed to hesitate, but it was only the briefest of seconds. "That you'll turn out just like your father!"

And there it was.

Something snapped – she could visibly see it, in his eyes – and a dangerous shadow crossed his face. She had never feared him before, even when she probably _should_ have, but as she watched him quiver in anger (anger directed at _her_) she could feel the fear bubbling up.

He didn't say anything. He merely gave her one withering glare, and, without turning around, stormed out of the front door.

Hermione remained where she was, and she felt physically _exhausted_, as if the fight had drained every ounce of energy she had. There was no more adrenaline from their argument, and it had not ended the way it usually did (with an unvoiced apology). It had been all wrong.

They'd had the talk hundreds of times, most of which occurred even before they developed feelings for each other, when they were working together for the Order. Back then, Hermione had always felt a need to _fix_ him, to remedy whatever was broken inside his soul, and perhaps part of her still did.

The weariness seeped into her bones, and she collapsed in a graceless heap on the floor, her legs folded beneath her and a few stray tears staining her now-pallid cheeks. She was fiddling with the seam of her lumpy red jumper that she'd had for ages, and the silence of their home was so loud it made her ears bleed.

It was ringing with his voice.

"_Granger... there are _people_ out there…"he groaned._

"_Yes, Draco, that's what happens at a wedding. People." She rolled her eyes, straightening his typically-black robes once more._

"_But, bloody hell, did you have to drag me to this? Potter doesn't want me here…"_

"_Yes, but _I_ do, and he wants me here. So he'll deal with it."_

"_Granger, they're not going to like it."_

"_I know. I don't care. Now, do you trust me?"She quirked her eyebrow at him, and a strange shadow crossed over his eyes. He sighed, and, strangely, took her hand. She smiled softly, lacing their fingers together._

She remembered how he had looked then – tired and a little more gaunt than he should have been, perhaps, but still beautiful. He'd always had that natural elegance about him that she'd envied from afar (and then not so distantly). It was, she realized, when she had truly _known_ she was in love with him.

"_Malfoy."_

"_Granger."_

_She stared at him, her eyes boring into his notably lighter ones, and she wondered if he could feel the hatred emanating off of her. He seemed so bloody smug, just then, and it bothered her immensely; he had nothing, he _was _nothing, and yet he had the gall to act superior to her._

"_Your room is upstairs. Molly told me to show you where to go," she said curtly, crossing her arms over her chest._

"_Just tell me where it is," he drawled, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I don't need help from filthy Mudbloods like you."_

"_Well," she retorted lightly, "This filthy little Mudblood is one of the few people who doesn't have a death wish for you, so I suggest you be a bit more polite." She left him standing in the foyer of Grimmaud Place, his eyes widened imperceptibly and a sinking feeling in his stomach._

The words were everywhere. Haunting her, almost, as if reminding her of how far they'd come and how far they still had to go.

Sure, they'd hurdled over the worst of the barriers, but she'd crossed a line today – she knew that. His father was a tender subject, and it was one they didn't mention often for this reason. First it had been blood purity, and then his family, and now, just his father.

Hermione's breathing had become ragged. She closed her eyes and covered her ears, as if trying to block out the silence, but it permeated her white-knuckled fingers, and she could feel a few more tears splash against the fabric of her jumper.

_His eyes were stormy, and so many emotions creased his face at one time that she couldn't focus on one in particular. _

"_No," he whispered, and she noticed his voice was hoarse. "I… you can't go."_

"_Draco," she said wearily, giving him a pleading look, "I have to. You know that."_

"_For Merlin's sake, this is the Order, isn't it? There have to… have to be others, who can go. Others who are older, and…"_

"_Draco, I'm of age. I'm eligible to go. And… and it's Harry and Ron! I have…"_

"_No!" he yelled, pounding his fist on the table that stood in between them. "No, you don't have to! They're old enough to handle themselves! I'm not… I'm not letting you go out there and getting yourself killed!"_

"_Let me? _Let _me?" she echoed, her temper rising. "You don't let me do anything! You're not my keeper!"_

"_No, but I am your boyfriend!" _

"_Yes, Draco, I know that, but that doesn't mean you have any control over my actions! Bloody hell, why can't you just trust me this once?"_

"_Because I love you, damn it!"_

_The entire room seemed to become significantly smaller, and she let her body go slack. He was staring at her, the anger still burning in his eyes, but his expression seemed… softer, almost, after the confession. She could tell that he hadn't intended to say it, but it didn't make the statement any less true._

_She closed the distance between them in all of about a second._

"_I love you too," she murmured, dragging his face down to hers. She could feel his short pants of breath, and she thought she saw a tear glide down his pale cheek. She clutched his face in her hands, rubbing circles absently along his jaw, and she closed her eyes. _

"_I love you too," she repeated._

A gentle hand touched her shoulder.

She clamped her hands over her ears.

A muffled voice was speaking to her, but she tried not to focus on the words – the words were making her feel worse, feel guilty, for what she'd said, and she couldn't…

A pair of strong arms cradled her against a chest. She kept her eyes closed as the person carried her to Merlin knew where, until finally she felt herself plop softly against the mattress of the bed. A pair of hands pried her own off of her ears, but her eyes remained fastened closed.

She heard a sigh, and then, quietly: "Hermione?"

Hermione opened her eyes slowly, and Draco was sitting in front of her, a worried expression on his face. She blinked back the tears that had lodged themselves in her eyelashes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, taking his much larger hand into her own and knotting their fingers together.

He smiled. "I know," he murmured. "I'm sorry too." He frowned, and a furrow creased his brow. "I've been thinking," he said after a moment.

"Hm?"

"I think I'd like to have a baby, too."

She raised her head, her mouth open slightly and an awed expression on her face. His smile widened slightly, seeing this, and she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. She tried to pour herself into it: her gratitude, her happiness, her regret. When they broke apart, he dropped his forehead onto hers, and she could feel a smile creeping upon her lips.

"You aren't going to be like him, you know," she whispered. He closed his eyes, and she could hear him inhale deeply. She watched him closely from under her lashes, and when he spoke again, it was with a sort of determination.

"I know."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all for reading! Please let me know your thoughts & review - it's much appreciated!**

**Also, a disclaimer, I am NOT Jo Rowling. Sadly. **

**Anyways, please continue to read & review! (and, as a side note, for those reading Aversion: an update coming soon!)**

**Hannah**


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